


would it be okay/tender offerings

by Midnightminx90



Series: Canon-Compliant BeauYasha [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: (just a bit), 69 (Sex Position), Beau has a muscle kink, Beau needs to go tf to sleep, Canon Compliant, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cunnilingus, Emotional Sex, F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Kissing, Light Bondage, Massage, Masturbation, Morning Sex, Porn with Feelings, Sleeping Together, Voyeurism, let Beau cry 2k20, soft, spoilers for e111
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:15:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26718121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midnightminx90/pseuds/Midnightminx90
Summary: Post 111Sequel to "no better version of me"-Chapter 1 is soft. Chapter 2 is smut, so the rating only counts for that chapter
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Series: Canon-Compliant BeauYasha [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944490
Comments: 17
Kudos: 218





	1. tender offerings

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, this is about the mirror

Beau’s notebooks are strewn across the table in front of her where she sits, back hunched, one hand tapping a quill against a sheet of paper with notes scribbled on it, droplets of ink flying across and obscuring some of the letters.

Yasha sits in front of the fire, Molly’s now cleaned and dried coat in her hands, as she tries to decipher the symbols, looking for meaning but finding none.

Time goes by in comfortable silence, the crackling of the fire accompanied by the tapping of her quill the only sounds to fill the room.

The third time Beau’s head slips out of the hand propped under her chin, Yasha speaks up.

“Don’t you think that’s enough for tonight?”

Yasha’s voice is soft, but Beau still jumps, having forgotten she wasn’t alone in her room. She wonders when she’d begun to let her guard down, to be so focused on what she’s working on that she doesn’t notice her surroundings.

“It feels like I’m almost there, like the answer is right in front of me but I can’t find it, you know? It’s frustrating.” She snarls the last word.

“Then maybe you should take a break,” Yasha suggests. “Come back with a clear mind, you know?”

“I could tell you the same thing. Doesn’t seem you’ve gotten much out of that coat either.”

“You’re right,” Yasha says and she sounds so sad that Beau curses herself for her words. 

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Yasha sounds confused now, and Beau thinks she should just learn to shut her mouth, especially in front of Yasha.

“I don’t like it when you’re sad,” she replies, and yes, she absolutely needs to shut up now before she embarreses herself further.

Yasha smiles at that, as small and gentle as all of the smiles Beau has come to associate with her. She does not blush. Not at all. It’s just the firelight that makes it seem like it, that’s all.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Yasha says, rising from the chair and letting Molly’s coat drape over the armrest.

“Make me,” Beau says, as petulant as a child, because she’s not ready to quit her research for the night, not yet, not when she’s this close.

Fire dances in Yasha’s eyes.

Before she knows it, Yasha’s swept her up in her arms, walking towards the door leading to the bedroom. Beau’s arms instinctually goes around Yasha’s neck, mind wandering to the other times she’s been held like this by Yasha. 

Next thing, she’s thrown down on the bed.

“You know this won’t make me sleep right?” Beau asks, sitting up.

“Take off your top,” is the only reply from Yasha as she climbs into bed after her.

“Wait, what?” She looks up at Yasha, reading nothing on her face. “You mean we’re gonna do this? I heard you yesterday, you know, about the…”

“No,” Yasha interrupts. “Well, not tonight. Your mind isn’t in the right place. I’m just going to help you relax.”

“Uhh, you know asking me to take my clothes off is having, like, the opposite effect, right?”

There’s a fondness in Yasha’s eyes, and some hint of the heat that was present the previous, and so far only, time they had sex. It had also been present when she spotted the mirror and commented on the usefulness. 

“Just listen to me Beau, please?”

“I always am,” Beau replies before she can stop the words from escaping past her lips, and yepp, she’s once again failed at shutting up before she emabresses herself. Story of my life, she thinks.

“You weren’t a moment ago,” Yasha points out and Beau’s heart flutters at the teasing tone. 

“Okay, I’ll listen.”

“Let me help you then, if that makes it easier.”

Yasha reaches out and helps Beau remove the vest and short top before the undergarment. Beau sees Yasha’s eyes linger at her breasts, but not act on it.

“Lie on your stomach.”

Beau does, not having the energy to protest. Because yes, she’s tired, more so than she wants to admit even to herself, the exhaustion seeping into her bones.

She doesn’t have the chance to ask Yasha’s plans before the taller woman straddling her, sitting on her ass, warm hands on her lower back before they push down, and then up her back. 

It’s painful and good and really makes her realise just how sore she is.

Beau groans, hands fisting in the sheets. It’s been too long since she’s gotten a massage, and their adventures and the recent hours spent going through books and notes have not made things better.

“Fuck,” she says through clenched teeth when Yasha kneads a particularily painful knot.

“I’m sorry, am I hurting you?”

“It’s fine. I’m just, ah, more sore than I thought.”

“You know, it would be easier if you would relax.”

“Kinda hard when you’re sitting on my ass.”

Yasha’s hands are no longer in her back, and Beau feels the other woman shift slightly.

“You want me to stop then?”

“No.” Shit. Once again, answered too fast. 

Yasha laughs, and Beau’s heart skips a beat. There’s something about hearing Yasha laugh, hearing her happy. It’s always been such a rare thing, but lately she’s sounded free, her laughter coming more easily.

A questioning hum escapes Yasha, before she moves off of Beau.

“What’re you doing?” Beau mumbles into the bed, trying to turn her head to see what Yasha’s up to.

“I just figured..” she appears in Beau’s view holding something. “Thank you Caleb.”

“Just figured what?”

The answer is cold oil being poured on her back. It smells like sandalwood and something she can’t quite pick up on.

“That he knows you,” Yasha answers as she returns to her former position, working the oil into Beau’s skin.

It quickly warms up, and even though the pain in her muscles still tell her that she’s not taken proper care of them, Beau still begins to relax as Yasha rubs and kneads, and before long her eyes start to drift closed, as she sighs in pleasure. 

She briefly registers Yasha moving off of her and sitting on the bed next to her.

“Goodnight Beau,” Yasha whispers, voice so soft and low that Beau barely makes out the words.

Struggling to stay awake for even a second longer, Beau reaches out a hand towards Yasha, somehow finding one of hers.

“Please stay,” she manages to say, voice slurred with sleep.

“Okay.”


	2. would it be okay

Beau wakes the next morning, feeling more rested than she’s felt in ages.    
  
As she becomes conscious, she also becomes aware of a weight she’d not expected, and she tenses, at first uncertain of as to where she is until she opens her eyes and sees the room in Caleb’s tower.   
  
The weight though, the weight is…   
  
Is Yasha’s arms wrapped around her, and as Beau turns her head, she can see the exposed mirror above her, see Yasha curled up against her, looking peaceful.    
Tears well in Beau’s eyes, something that never happens, because she cannot remember someone ever holding her like this. Even amongst the Nein, even with Jester there, they just… they do not hug. Beau isn’t even sure her mother held her as a child.   
  
And here is Yasha. Yasha, who gave her a massage. Who didn’t expect anything, sexual or otherwise, in return. Yasha, who stayed the night after making sure Beau went to bed, kept her from sitting up and driving herself mad by going through all of her notes.    
  
_ She stayed _ , Beau thinks.  _ She’s still here. _   
  
There is a storm inside her, emotions swelling up, and Yasha is her anchor, holding her tight, holding her in place as everything around them swirls.    
  
“It’s okay,” Yasha whispers against her, and Beau freezes.   
  
“I’m sorry I woke you,” Beau chokes out, fighting against the tears. “Fuck, I don’t…”   
  
“It’s okay,” Yasha says again. “I’ve got you.”   
  
The words are an echo of when they were in Yasha’s room, her wings wrapped around them as Beau came with Yasha’s fingers inside her and the differences and similarities are jarring, tumultuous in her head.    
  
Yasha held her then, holds her now, and Beau feels lost and found all at once.    
  
“I didn’t think you’d stay. No one ever does.”   
  
“I’m done leaving,” Yasha says, voice so soft it’s almost heartbreaking.    
  
Yasha kisses her then, the lips pressing against Beau’s as soft as her voice, and Beau melts into the embrace, turning to chase a better angle.   
Her hands cup Yasha’s face, and she can feel tears on the other woman’s face as well. Beau wipes them away with her thumbs, tasting salt on both of their lips.    
  
Beau kisses Yasha, again and again, desperate for contact, needing to feel Yasha in every way.   
  
She begins kissing Yasha’s jaw, her throat, moving lower and lower, her hands wandering, seeking contact with Yasha’s heated skin. There is an addiction in this, Beau realises, to touch Yasha like this, to be allowed to after having wanted for so long.    
  
Then Yasha moves, flipping them over, hands on either side of Beau as she hovers above her.   
  
“Are you sure?” Yasha asks.   
  
“I wouldn’t have started this if I wasn’t,” Beau replies, feeling a bit out of breath.   
  
“Beau,” Yasha says, the way she says her name sounding like a warning. “Tell me you’re sure.”   
  
“I’m sure,” Beau replies. “Are you?”   
  
“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” Yasha replies, and Beau just looks at her, waiting for an actual answer. “So yes, I am.”   
  
Yasha moves then, before Beau can react, kissing a path from her neck to her breasts. It causes Beau to close her eyes, back arching as Yasha begins to nuzzle, then lick one of her nipples, taking it into her mouth.   
  
“Open your eyes,” Yasha says, then goes back to her ministrations.   
  
Beau does, eyes on the mirror above her bed and  _ oh _ . Yasha was right. Caleb, the bastard, was right and she’ll thank him later but for now she lies there, hands fisted in the sheets below her, gaze fixed on herself and Yasha in the mirror.   
  
Her own skin is flushed, and it feels almost like an out-of-body experience to watch herself like this.   
  
“Why do you still have clothes on?” Beau asks, gaze still on the mirror.    
  
“Want to see my muscles?” Yasha asks in return, not looking up as she nips at the skin between Beau’s breasts.   
  
“Always,” Beau replies.   
  
Yasha looks up then, smiling, no, grinning at Beau as she sits up before leaving the bed and somehow begins to unravel the contraption that is her outfit.   
  
“Still don’t understand how that works,” Beau comments, eyes now on Yasha in front of her, and the way her muscles move as she undresses.    
  
“I’d show you if you weren’t so impatient,” Yasha quips, an eyebrow raised and hair tousled as she pulls the garment over her head.   
  
“Yeah yeah, now get back to it, I wanna test this mirror.”   
  
“Told you,” Yasha says, but does what Beau wants after removing the rest of her clothes.   
  
Beau wants to admire Yasha in all her naked glory, but she’ll do that after, when their roles are reversed.   
  
Yasha’s hands now move down to Beau’s waist, thumbs slipping just under her waistband, circling the skin at her hips but not pulling the garment down. She straddles one of Beau’s legs, then kisses her again and again, quick pecks on the lips at first, then across one cheek to her ear, down her jaw, her throat, nipping at her skin.   
  
And all the while, Beau’s eyes are on the mirror, watching Yasha move, watching her back, watching her muscles move.   
  
She moves her hands then, splaying them out across Yasha’s back, watching the difference between her own dark and Yasha’s pale skin. Beau sinks her nails into Yasha’s back when Yasha begins to suck a mark at the junction of her shoulder and throat, and in turn Yasha’s hands grasp at Beau’s hips.   
  
Beau, mind starting to turn hazy from lust, understands what Yasha wants.   
  
So, ever so carefully at first, she begins to scratch Yasha’s back, watching the faint lines turn red and then fade. Yasha rubs against her leg, and Beau scratches harder, marks flaring crimson in the wake of her fingers as she feels Yasha’s muscles shift under her hands.   
  
There’s no doubt that Yasha is wet and wanting, just like Beau herself is, judging by the wetness seeping through the trousers Beau still wears.    
  
Yasha moves lower, kissing her way down Beau’s body, and this time she drags her trousers and underwear down as she moves off of her. She settles between Beau’s legs, spreading them as she does.   
  
She kisses the side of one of Beau’s knees before kissing a path up towards her cunt.   
  
There is no teasing in the way Yasha’s tongue moves across Beau’s clit, no hesitation in the way she inserts one finger, pumping it in and out. Beau arches her back, hands once again grabbing the sheet beneath her.   
  
Two fingers now, curling up inside her as Yasha begins to suck.   
  
Beau’s hands settle in Yasha’s hair, and she knows now that Yasha doesn’t mind the pain when Beau pulls her hair, scraping her nails across Yasha’s scalp, because Yasha moans against her, sending vibrations through Beau’s entire body and she feels she might combust right then and there.    
  
She doesn’t quite know where to look; at Yasha directly or through the mirror.   
  
Now there are three fingers inside her and Beau knows she’s close, feels it building, pooling inside her as she holds Yasha’s face to her cunt, trying not to thrust up.   
  
“Yashaaaaaah,” she moans, the name dragging out as Yasha’s fingers curl up and hit the right spot inside her. “Fuck, you’re so good at this! Gods, I’m so close, so close babe, feels so good.”   
  
_ Shit _ , Beau thinks.  _ Why the fuck did I say that? She’s gonna think it’s too soon and she’ll leave and then… _   
  
Yasha’s kissing her. Not leaving, not telling her off for the pet name. Yasha is kissing her and her fingers are still moving inside Beau, one thumb circling her clit, and Beau can taste herself on Yasha, and…    
  
Yasha’s wings are out, just like last time. Yasha’s mouth is on Beau’s neck and Beau’s gaze on the mirror above, eyes locked on the wings as she comes, back arched and hands somehow still in Yasha’s hair.    
  
She feels light and free, and for a moment it looks like they’re flying again, Yasha’s wings beating gently.   
  
“Too sensitive,” Beau mumbles, and Yasha carefully removes her fingers.    
  
Beau feels empty without them, wishing she could keep them there for longer because she likes the way Yasha’s long, calloused fingers feel on her and inside her.   
  
“Didn’t take you for a pet-name person Beau,” Yasha says softly, and Beau’s name is spoken even more softly than usual, and with such reverence that Beau sees why people worship angels.   
  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t…”   
  
“Didn’t mean it? Or didn’t mean to say it? Those are two different things darling.”   
  
Beau’s eyes are wide.   
  
“You… I…” Beau tries, but can’t find the words to express herself.   
  
Yasha smiles at her, but it’s a sad smile. Her wings vanish at that point, and Beau aches.   
  
“You deserve someone who’ll care enough to stick around and give them to you,” Yasha says. “You just need to let yourself care as well.”   
  
Tears sting, building up again and Beau fights it with everything in her.   
  
She pulls Yasha down into another kiss, needing to distract herself from the emotions Yasha brings out in her. This is not the time for it.   
  
“My turn,” she whispers against Yasha’s lips, then moves, trying her best to flip them over and it’s awkward but they make it work. “Can I try something?”   
  
“Yeah,” Yasha says. “Sure.”   
  
Beau leaves the bed for a moment, gathering the Cobalt Soul scarves Caleb added as decoration. Her legs feel like jelly but she manages to stay upright. Briefly she wonders if he suspected she’d find a use for them, but banishes the thought quickly. She really needs to stop thinking about him, but he is making it hard with this room.  _ Brothers _ , Beau thinks, and oh, there’s a new thought she really doesn’t have the time or energy to focus on.    
  
“Would it be okay if I tied you up?” Beau asks, scarves in her hands as she climbs back on the bed to look at Yasha. “I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want to, I know you’ve been tied up before and I wouldn’t want to…”   
  
“They’re not shackles if it’s a choice,” Yasha interrupts. “I’d tell you otherwise if I didn’t want to.”   
  
“Okay,” Beau says, then begins to tie Yasha’s hands to the bed. “The blue looks good on you.”   
  
“So do you.”   
  
Beau blushes, tilting her face down so that her hair will obscure her face, hoping Yasha won’t notice.    
  
Yasha, of course, notices. She takes Beau’s face in her one hand that’s still free.    
  
“You’re not used to compliments.” It’s a statement, not a question and Beau nods. “Then I’ll teach you.”   
  
_ That _ is a promise.   
  
She doesn’t reply with words, just takes Yasha’s hand in her own and squeezes it before tying it to the other bedpost.   
  
“Still okay?” Beau asks.   
  
“Yes,” Yasha replies.   
  
Kissing Yasha is addictive and Beau can’t help herself from copying Yasha’s previous movements, with quick pecks on her lips and throat and jaw.    
  
Beau lets her hands wander down Yasha’s body as she continues to kiss her. She wonders briefly if it’ll ever not feel strange to have Yasha like this, to be allowed to touch and kiss and look at.   
  
Yasha is made to be worshipped, and Beau wants to do just that.    
  
Her hands stroke over every inch of skin, feeling gooseflesh rise in their wake. Experimentally, Beau repeats the movement, but now instead of the gentle caress of her fingers, stained with ink and calloused, she drags her blunt nails across Yasha’s skin.   
  
Like before, crimson marks appear, fading quickly from the light pressure. Yasha’s muscles tense for a moment, then relax again.   
  
“Beau.” Yasha speaks her name like a warning, almost like a growl. “If you keep that up I’m not going to last.”   
  
“Want me to stop doing that then?” Beau asks, sitting back and tilting her head to the side as she observes Yasha.   
  
“No…” It sounds a bit reluctant, and Beau can’t help but laugh a little.   
  
Beau moves further down, hands now on Yasha’s hips, nails digging slightly into the skin as she ever so slowly drag them down over Yasha’s hip bones and down towards the hair between her legs.   
  
Yasha is wet, even more so that Beau thought she’d be. She can see it, and as she sinks two fingers into Yasha they slide in much easier that she expected.    
  
Leaning back again, Beau just watches her fingers move in and out of Yasha, sliding them almost all the way out before moving them in again, scissoring to open her up even more, even though it doesn’t feel like she needs to.    
  
“Fuck,” Beau says. “I can’t believe you’re this wet for me.”   
  
“Beau,” Yasha says again, and this time it really does sound like a growl.   
  
“And you called me impatient,” Beau teases, but knowing all too well how Yasha’s been turned on for longer than she herself was before release, and that Yasha’s not been touched until now, except for when she was straddling Beau’s leg.   
  
She knows all too well the sensitivity that comes from being wet and not touched for that long.   
  
“Look up,” she tells Yasha, “you were the one who said it would be useful.”   
  
Yasha does, and Beau on her side does something she’s never done before.    
  
With two of her fingers still buried inside Yasha, she puts three of her own into herself. She’s still feeling a bit sensitive, but it’s okay. It’s been a while since she came twice in a short amount of time, but Yasha is so hot, and knowing she turns the other woman on this much really does something to Beau.   
  
Finding a rhythm is hard; trying to move both hands with the same speed, trying to find the right angle and movement doesn’t make it easier.    
  
“Fuck,” Yasha says and the tone in her voice makes Beau shiver. “We should keep an eye out for something that makes this easier.”   
  
“Like what you see?” Beau asks, now adding a third finger into Yasha as well, thumb on her clit rubbing circles and other patterns.    
  
“I didn’t think... “ Yasha arches her back, then thrusts up against Beau’s hand. “Didn’t think this was possible.”   
  
Beau shrugs. Kind of.   
  
“It’s not something I’ve tried before, but, aaah, saw someone else do it once and thought why not. It feels awkward though.”   
  
Yasha looks down at her, away from the mirror.   
  
“Sit on my face instead.”   
  
Beau’s hands stills as she looks at Yasha.   
  
“I mean it,” Yasha continues. “If you want to get off again, I can do that while you continue… that, with your hand on me. Or you can eat me out.”   
  
“Yeah, okay, that’s… yeah.”   
  
Beau wastes no time, moving to hover over Yasha’s face as she moves her own face towards Yasha’s clit. Then she lowers herself, and somehow her tongue begins licking into Yasha’s folds just as Yasha’s tongue does the same to her.   
  
A shiver runs through Beau, and she steadies her arms to keep her upright.   
  
It almost seems like a competition, based on the pace Yasha quickly sets with her tongue. But Beau has her hands available as well, and wastes no time pulling Yasha’s legs further apart before inserting three fingers into her as she continues to lick and suck at Yasha’s clit.   
  
Yasha’s tongue enters Beau, and oh, that woman knows how to use it.    
  
The angle is somewhat awkward still, and trying to focus on making Yasha come while Yasha is doing the same to her isn’t easy, but Beau focuses on the fact that she knows Yasha was close before.   
  
She digs the nails of her free hand into Yasha’s asscheek. Yasha in turn begins to lick patterns on Beau’s clit, alternating it by sucking and it’s a pattern without being a pattern, making Beau uncertain as to what will be next.   
  
Beau moves her hand, and her fingers finally find the right angle, because Yasha’s mouth pulls away from her to warn her.   
“Beau, I’m gonna come if you do that again.”   
  
“Then do it,” Beau replies, crooking her fingers again, stroking over the spot inside Yasha.   
  
Beau’s mouth is on Yasha again as she comes, muscles contracting around her fingers and yet Yasha is back to licking and sucking her clit.   
  
Yasha’s moans are swallowed, but Beau still feels the vibrations and she comes again, unable to tell Yasha in case she had wanted to pull away.   
  
Beau’s orgasm borders on painful from the sensitivity, but fuck does it feels good, the synchronisity of it all, and Yasha still getting her off even when caught up in her own orgasm.   
  
“I don’t deserve you,” Beau whispers, low enough that she doesn’t think Yasha hears it.   
  
“I think you’ll find it’s the other way,” Yasha says.   
  
Beau rolls off to the side, careful not to kick Yasha in the face as she does. Then she sits up, shaking, and begins to undo the knots on the scarf.   
  
“We’re filthy,” Beau says, matter of factly. “Wanna see if the tub fits two?   
  
Yasha laughs.   
  
“I don’t know if I can move though. That was… You don’t give yourself enough credit Beau. But yes, I’ll join you. And if it’s too small, I’ll ask Caleb for a bigger one next time.”   
  



End file.
